


The Mechanist and Co.

by TurnTechTimaeus



Series: Snapshots [2]
Category: Original Work, Steampunk - Fandom
Genre: Because I'm bad at writing dialogue, Gen, Just description, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:58:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnTechTimaeus/pseuds/TurnTechTimaeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I like the universe that The Mechanist, The Thief, The Assassin, The Ruler and The Heir are set in from Snapshots so I'm extending them here. So enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mechanist I

Oil’s splattered on her boots and her wrench is somewhere across the workshop floor. The ticking and whirring sound of the new eyepiece she’s crafting is comforting. There are other sounds of course, including the hiss of steam as it travels through the pipes, provided her modest workshop with power. There are books and half-sketched blueprints scattered across the benches and copper wires and tools splayed across the floor. There’s a bed, if you can call a mattress on the floor a bed, in the corner and next to that a box with a clockwork locking mechanism, where she stores clean clothes. The bulk of the mask is done and the eyepiece is the only thing left to attach, she’d been commissioned to do it, for a handsome price and truth be told what the mask would be used for was none of her concern. Glancing outside she saw a police officer strolling through the street, his mechanical arm ticking and occasionally hissing when he moved to check his watch. She used to make arms and braces for soldiers after the war but years have passed and she’s more interested in helping those who want to bring down the corruption, so people slip her address to those interested and they come to her with designs and she makes them because what good is the city if honest people can’t make a living? She’s always cautious though, just in case it’s linked back to her, so they never get her name and they enter and exit through the door into the cobbled alley at the back of her shop. Her prices are cheap and she does legitimate business on the side, with the merchants who want to automate their businesses so no one talks about her helping the assassins, rogues or ‘anarchists’ of the city.

She remembers the first person entering her workshop, pleading with her for something to hide his face, for it was covered in burns and so she crafted him a golden mask, free of charge with the warning that if he broke it he’d be charged next time. He came back a week later, the mask dented and scuffed. He’d explained in hushed tones that he was an assassin and up until a week ago he’d been wearing a gas mask to hide his face. She tells him to sit and they sketch a design out for his new mask. The new design made heavy use of clockwork gears to both hide his face and provide magnification for the eyepiece. She charged him ten shillings and sixpence for the mask and told him to wait a week. A week hence he returned and then again two days later if only to inform her that the mask had been perfect and if she didn’t mind he’d hand out her location and workshop for others who wished to make a change, she’d merely nodded and was shocked when he’d handed her a haul of gears and coins. He has friends in this city and now by extension they are her friends, they come to her if they need anything from a mechanical brace to restore movement to guns and non-lethal arrows.

She has them enter through the alley at the back of her workshop, largely because she’d rather they not get caught. There’s a slender person stood out back this morning, they’re here for the mask they commissioned, she notes that they have long slender fingers perfect for pickpocketing and thieving. The mask she presents them with is designed to their specification, with an eyepiece similar to the one the assassin has but this mask is plainer. This is their first mask and by all means they shouldn’t be paying for it, she’s told them this and they merely shrugged and forced a five pound note into her hand. She’d been shocked – five pound could buy her several boxes of various materials she needed. They linger for a time, making small talk and then they’re gone, via the balcony overlooking a small side street and she hears light footsteps running across the slates. The next morning she hears a newsboy yelling that there’s been a robbery of one of the wealthiest families in the city, along with a threatening letter, she guessed it’d been the person who visited the day prior for a scrawled note and a rolled up painting informing her that she may wish to sell it or hang it somewhere out of the way. She smiles at that, be it the assassin who first visited her or the rogues who bring her pastries and flowers they’ve stolen in exchange for her crafting them anything for a pocket watch for a lover to a brace for a leg while it heals.


	2. Thief I

They’re perched on the rooftop, the buttons and gold embroidery on their navy jacket catching the moonlight and if it weren’t empty out they’d surely be spotted. The mask fits them perfectly and the eyepiece allows them to view their environment as if through a magnifying glass. They can see the house they’re targeting, the lights are out and they’ve been informed that it’s empty. There’s several items they desire from a jewellery box to a cameo. The family are corrupt and they’ve been hired to teach them a lesson with instructions to take anything they desire and leave a note for them. They move swiftly towards the house and slip in through an open window before beginning their work. The only sound in the house is that of the grandfather clock. The house is beautiful really, several paintings line the walls and if they think ahead they might take one and gift it to the creator of the mask. This life is all they have, for a time they had a relationship with another thief until she tried to alert the authorities to their activities and so they moved to thieving from a wealthier district, where security is tighter but they’re used to that, having been a pickpocket first. They grab the cameo, the jewellery box, a painting of a young girl and several other expensive looking items before heading to the kitchen to pilfer food, leaving the note on the table they leave through the third floor window and move swiftly and quietly.

The move like a cat across the rooftops of the wealthy, eager to get back to their employer. Once that’s done they’re heading to the poorer district, where the mechanist lives. They know not her name, only that she is brilliant and her work garners attention in the city’s underworld. They slip in through the unlocked door on the balcony and are greeted by the small workshop and the owner asleep on a mattress in the corner. They’re quiet as they descend from the metal walkway, past blueprints and half built contraptions until they reach her work bench, they set the painting down and scrawl a note. They’re literate but only by virtue of their various employers and their handwriting leaves much to be desired. If she can sell it then she’ll have the money to buy a new workshop and more things but they think she won’t. As they leave it’s clear to them that she loves this part of town and even though she could be living a life amongst the upper classes she chooses to help those who live in this district. They drop to the street below the balcony and casually swipe a wallet from a drunken man as they pass them. 

They reach their home, a small house close to the workshop but not close enough that the mechanist would notice them daily. They close the door quietly and slip up the stairs, barely waking the others that live there. They’re the best out of this bunch and they know it but that doesn’t stop them from placing money next to each of the other six beds along with the mechanist’s address to the most promising rogue they’ve seen in a while. Their military jacket hits the floor and then off comes their mask, the jacket was their father’s once, it’s the last thing they have of him, it was sent to them after he was killed, he’d never approved of their ways but never ratted them out to the police, he’d always said that this city was corrupt but maybe they should use their skills to undermine the corrupt rather than steal from stalls and shops as they had been doing. They started doing just that, the first few times they were nearly caught and it was after two years of living this way that a man had slipped them the mechanist’s address and told them simply that she was one of the best and some of her work would help them greatly. They’d been surprised that she’d as warm as she had, she’d made them a drink and listened at length to what they wanted and involved them in the blueprints, they’d asked a few times about her but she’d only shook her head and said that people don’t get to know that lest they inform on her and hence she led them to the alley, smiled and told them to come back in a week.


	3. The Assassin I.

She’s moving gracefully through the crowds, no one would think that she’s here to kill. The smell of cigarette smoke lingers in the air as women smoke through holders and men smoke cigars. The soft ticking and whirring of the brace on her left arm is barely audible over the sound of the chatter and music. Her target’s not too far in front of her and while some assassins would murder their target in the open with a blade or a shot she’s much more refined, poison will do. The clockwork band’s music begins to reach the crescendo as she slips the poison into his drink before anyone notices and watches as a waiter carries it over to him. Then she’s mingling with the upper classes as if she belongs there. She knows if she’s caught it’ll end in a bloodbath and she’ll walk away as if nothing happened, vanishing into the night with blood splattered across her dress and maybe even a few wounds and dents in the brace. She’s good with a blade, despite the fact up until she went to visit a Mechanist a few months ago she could barely move it on account of an injury sustained on her last job. She’s regained all her skills with a blade since and it’s like she’s never stopped but her favourite method will always be poison. She hears a crash and looks up to see the man fall to the floor, having lost all feeling in his legs, a couple of guests scream and the waiter is led away by guards. She smiles as pandemonium breaks out at the party and leaves, taking the now empty bottle of hemlock with her. Her pockets will be lined quite nicely once her employer gets wind of this and perhaps she’ll send some tea to the Mechanist as a thank you for the brace.

She’s not as stealthy as the Thief but she saunters into the Mechanist’s workshop as if she owns the place and is delighted when she jumps and smears oil across her face. She sets down some tea and a cast iron kettle on the bench and smiles. The Mechanist stares at her for a time before nodding and firing up a small stove, which is conveniently situated next to the mattress she calls a bed. The Assassin is observant, she has to be because it’s the difference between being caught and getting away with murder, she notices all the blueprints tacked to the walls and the fliers informing the Mechanist to inform on anyone who looks suspicious – they’re all shoved in what the Assassin assumes is a bin. Her pockets are well lined, her employer impressed and as she sits down with the Mechanist she feels content and wonders if she does this with anyone else, the Mechanist likes to hear stories and has never asked for payment for the brace but has requested that she’s able to look over it. Reluctantly she removes the brace feeling exposed without it and watches as the Mechanist oils and cleans it before replacing a few cogs that’ve become damaged, carefully they place back on the Assassin’s arm and she regain the mobility she lost for a time. 

She sleeps well that night, she’s in between jobs and she’s not a care in the world. The clockwork of the brace ticks quietly and the streets below are empty, in the distance the sound of waves lapping at the beach and cliffs are mixed with the late night cries of gulls but she doesn’t hear it, holed up in her modest house in one of the wealthier districts of this city. As instructed she passed the address of the Mechanist onto another person, a man who looked like he was out for vengeance and then departed the scene, dropping their shoulders and actually crying when she was far enough away. She hates that life has forced her into this path but regretfully she’s good at it and her family were too low a class to see her married to a wealthy man and her family had long since left this city. Maybe one day she’ll be hardened to this life but that day isn’t today and it won’t be for a while for at heart she’s the sixteen year old girl who took her first life on accident saving a pickpocket from a corrupt guard.


End file.
